The Piercing of The Needle
by XenaDragon-xoxo
Summary: Remus goes to Bill to cover up an old tattoo. If only he didn't enjoy being tattooed so much. And if only Bill Weasley wasn't so bloody attractive. A one-shot.


**A/N: **More prompt fills. This was written to be 365 words exactly per section, making it 365 x 3. This website's wordcount system is a little off somehow, but I promise it all adds up!

**Warnings:** Stigmatophilia (arousal from tattoos and being tattooed), suggestion (no explicit sexual scenes)

**Prompts:** Breathe, Bug, Stigmatophilia, Red Hair, Arrow

* * *

"You sure about this?" Bill asked.

Remus nodded. "I trust you." It was true. He did trust Bill with all of his heart. They'd bonded over their shared experiences, and Remus found him to be sexily intelligent, attractively brave, and devilishly handsome. If only he wasn't so much younger...

Bill seated himself on a stool next to Remus. The tattoo machine whirred to life, humming and buzzing faintly. Remus winced as it touched the skin on the inner side of his right arm.

The light, piercing pain began to stir a long dormant feeling in the pit of Remus' stomach. It wasn't surprising. There was a reason that he'd collected a few tattoos in his time. A line of script on his back that rearranged itself into his favorite quote at the time. A Death's-head Hawk Moth: a symbol of the sacrifices his friends had made from him; the bug flew around his body and landed on different spots every day. A cluster of stars: the constellation Canis Major, with the sirius stars glowing brightly when touched. And of course, the one he was getting covered up today…

Remus closed his eyes, trying to think about anything other than the needle dragging across his skin, but it was fuelling a fire in his belly that was difficult to tame. Tattoos had always somewhat… excited him. The pain, though subtle, was exquisite, the vibrations of the machine were heavenly, and the thought of more of his skin being covered with ink was absolutely divine.

And it certainly didn't help that Bill was the tattooist. Bill, with his bright blue eyes, with his fang earring glinting in the bright lights, with his messy and carelessly tied back red hair, a part of which fell over his eyes. The way he held the tattoo machine and worried his lip as he worked on a patch of detail was excruciatingly sensual. Coupled with the knowledge of new ink on his skin and the sting of the needle, Remus stood no chance. It was getting hard to breathe.

As Bill worked silently, Remus kept his eyes closed and hoped desperately that the tattooist wouldn't notice the tent in his robes.

* * *

"I have to ask, Remus," Bill said, breaking the silence. "Why are you getting this line covered up?

Remus was sure his face was bright red, and his robes were so uncomfortably tight in the lower region that thinking straight was getting tedious.

"It was an arrow, before," he explained. The arrow was the first tattoo he had ever gotten. It was enchanted to always point in direction of the nearest Marauder. After the last one of them left the world, the arrowhead had disappeared, and it remained a dormant, straight line since. Every time he looked at it, his stomach would clench and his chest would tighten. Now, he was getting it replaced by a much fonder tribute to his fallen friends.

"An arrow?" Bill paused in his tattooing work. Remus was torn between immense relief that he was able to take a breather from the delicious piercing assault of the tattoo needle and empty disappointment at the loss of that sinful sensation. "I would have never guessed. What happened to it?"

"It served its purpose," Remus said. He was amazed that he was still speaking in clear, full sentences, but he could clearly hear his breath escaping in ragged gasps. He hoped Bill didn't notice.

The needle was hovering just inches over Remus' skin, and Remus fought hard not to move so he could feel it again. Instead, he tried to focus on Bill to distract himself. He took in the scars marring the skin of his face, the flexing of the muscles in his arms as he moved, and the tattoos of numerous dragons swirling around those arms, flying back and forth as they occasionally ducked underneath Bill's shirt and out of sight.

Remus realized, then, that observing Bill was only serving to turn him on even more.

"You alright, mate?" Bill asked, looking concerned. "You're sweating and you're very red."

Remus grinned, trying to assume a neutral expression. "I'm all fine, Bill, I promise."

Bill watched him carefully, then nodded and turned the machine back on again. The needle blissfully reunited with Remus' skin, and it took all he had in him not to go over the edge on the spot.

* * *

"And we're done!" Bill smiled.

Remus looked at his arm, admiring the talented Gryffindor's handiwork. Where the line once was now rested the image of a map, folded up in a familiar manner that no one else would understand the significance of - except Harry, who still owned the item it was modeled after. The tattoo had been enchanted so it sprung open when tapped, and after it healed up, Remus would return to have it enchanted again to display a map of any part of England with the touch of a wand.

Bill began to walk closer, and Remus became very aware that the space between them was disappearing. "Remus, I was wondering," he began, and Remus noticed that his cheeks were tinged pink. It was a good look, but Remus couldn't imagine what brought it on. "Maybe tomorrow, you could come by in the evening."

Remus tried to ignore his close proximity to Bill. "Already? Doesn't the tattoo need more time to heal before the second enchantment?"

"I meant, so we could go to dinner."

"Uh, sure," Remus replied. "We could go back to that fish-and-chips stall -"

"Not that kind of dinner." Bill was staring so deeply into Remus' eyes that Remus thought he might drown in the blues of Bill's.

"What kind of -"

He was cut off by Bill taking one step closer and pressing a sweet, gentle kiss to his lips. There were two too-short seconds of a bliss even more elevating than that of a tattoo needle before Bill pulled away.

Remus was dazed. "Oh. _That_ kind of dinner."

Bill nodded. "So, what do you say?"

For a moment, terrified thoughts flooded Remus' head. Bill was too young, he deserved better. Remus was dangerous to be around. Molly would flay him alive if he messed this up, and he would definitely mess this up, he always -

No. Remus forced himself to breathe. These intrusive thoughts never told the truth. He glanced at the new tattoo on his arm, and he could almost imagine those who inspired it cheering him on.

He looked back up at Bill, who was grimacing anxiously, and took his hand. "Yes," Remus said. "I would like that."


End file.
